


In a Touch

by JustSomeoneWhoLikesToWrite



Category: RWBY
Genre: 4+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Clover is the emotional rock of the team, Elm tries her best to be strong, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Harriet has anger issues, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Insecurities galore, Jumps from before and during Vol. 7, Marrow tries his best to prove himself worthy, Minor Injuries, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vine is socially awkward, lots of talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeoneWhoLikesToWrite/pseuds/JustSomeoneWhoLikesToWrite
Summary: The Ace-Ops might be made of the Elite but they’re only human too.Or a.k.a 4 times Clover comforts his teammates and 1 time they comfort him back.
Relationships: Clover Ebi & Ace-Ops Team, Clover Ebi & Elm Ederne, Clover Ebi & Harriet Bree, Clover Ebi & Marrow Amin, Clover Ebi & Vine Zeki
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	In a Touch

** Vine **

Clover doesn’t quite get Vine.

He thinks Vine hates them at first, always quiet and solemn, content to be in the background. Watches them with sharp eyes as the team exchange quips and jokes, hands behind his back. He’s skilled at fighting and protecting, but he usually does his own thing, doesn’t really coordinate his attacks with the others.

So, Clover is surprised when Vine approaches him one day, asks him to train with him.

“I have begun to realize,” Vine starts, staring unflinchingly into Clover’s eyes, “that my way of fighting is not conductive but on the contrary, _hindering_ to the team. I wish to ratify that if you are willing to help me.”

Clover’s eyebrows raise as he rolls his jaw, trying to parse through Vine’s statement. While Vine could be more of a team player, he’s not actively sabotaging their dynamic either.

“And what made you change your stance,” Clover says, keeps his tone soft and amicable, “If you don’t mind me asking?”

Clover watches in slight astonishment as Vine’s eyes darken, his lips pressing in a thin line. This has probably been the most emotion he has shown in the few weeks that Clover has known him. 

“Our most recent mission,” Vine elaborates, nostrils briefly flaring, “When we had to fight against the horde of Grimm near Mantle’s perimeter.”

And, Clover _does_ remember that mission. Remembers when Vine saw two Grimm trying to charge the wall, how he had activated his semblance without a second thought and held them back with each hand. 

But, Vine had miscalculated. He had missed the third Grimm that had retreated into the sky, ready to dive-bomb against the wall and into Mantle. He couldn’t let go of the Grimm in front of him but he had to stop it, had to protect the city. He was between a rock and a hard place and he didn’t know how he could fix this alone.

He was about to accept his fate when Harriet suddenly popped in his vision, semblance crackling around her as she bounced against the arm of his aura, propelling herself to strike at the Grimm with a well-placed fist. Clover was right behind her, jumping off of Vine’s other arm to hook into the Grimm’s wing while it was disoriented, crashing it down to the ground with a yell as he yanks at Kingfisher.

The Grimm ended up knocking into the ones Vine was gripping, killing them from the impact.

“I didn’t know what to do in that moment,” Vine admits quietly, closes his eyes with a deliberate breath, visibly centering himself, “I hadn’t thought to just ask for _help_ , to rely on the teammates that were before me. I thought I could do it on my own and for that, I could have cost the lives of many because of my ignorance.”

“Vine,” Clover says and steps closer to him, struck by how much this was bothering Vine, how much he must’ve let it stew in his mind, “It’s _alright_. That’s why you have us, we’re there to support and help each other. Make up for what the other lacks.”

“And I thank you for that,” Vine says, the corners of his mouth curled in a tiny smile, so subtle Clover nearly misses it.

Vine then slightly shuffles his feet, moves his hands from behind his back to intertwine his fingers. The way he softly squeezes his digits together belies his composure. Clover patiently waits for him to speak again.

“I’m.... not very good at interacting with people,” Vine finally says, before he straightens his spine, looks at Clover with a sudden determination, “But, I’m willing to learn how to, if you are willing to teach me.”

And, Clover smiles. Nods his head.

“Of course,” he says.

(Clover has been tactile his whole life, always one to give a pat on the shoulder or a ruffle to someone’s hair. Finds touch can convey what his mouth cannot.

Can support in a way that words can never do.)

So, it’s second nature to rest his hand against the side of Vine’s neck, giving it a friendly squeeze. It’s Clover’s preferred way of assurance, more intimate than if it was on the shoulder.

Clover is starting to regret doing it though as Vine stiffens up.

“You.... are touching my neck,” he says but he doesn’t sound mad, just confused, “Why are you doing that?”

Clover snatches his hand back, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

“Ah, sorry,” he says, rolling his shoulders, “It’s just something that I do. It’s supposed to be comforting.”

Vine silently stares down at him and his expression is once more unreadable.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, head tilted the tiniest of bits, “I.... don’t hate it. Perhaps you can try again, now that I know what to expect?”

And Clover's eyebrows jump up on his forehead, not predicting that. He smiles anyway, placing his hand back to where it was.

“Mmm,” Vine hums, eyes slightly narrowed like he’s actually judging Clover’s performance and Clover has to press his lips together not to laugh, “It _is_ comforting once you get used to it. I think I quite like it.”

Clover can’t stop his chuckle at that and he briefly pats Vine’s neck before stepping back, resting a hand on his hip.

“Well, that's good then because I tend to do it a lot,” Clover says, tone teasing as he cocks an eyebrow, “Wouldn’t want to scare you off.”

Vine softly smiles in response and this time his eyes sparkle with it.

“I’ll have you know, I don’t tend to frighten easily,” he says, a challenge in his voice and Clover happily takes the bait.

“I’d hope not!” Clover says, tilting his head, “Can’t have my training partner running off on me.”

“Perhaps I’ll just have to show you,” Vine muses, shrugging his shoulders.

“Guess we’ll have to go to the training room then,” Clovers says, gesturing to the hallway with a flourish of the hand.

The way Vine’s mouth twitches at the corners when he walks past him is almost like a laugh.

** Elm **

Elm is like fire, Clover thinks.

Radiant and fierce, burning brighter and hotter no matter how hard you tried to snuff out the flames. Could either be a welcoming warmth on a cold day or a roaring inferno, burning you from the inside out. 

Elm is eagerness and red-hot passion.

So, when Clover finds her after a long Grimm attack in Mantle, kneeling on the floor in an alleyway, bloody and bruised and still, oh so _still_ , Clover’s throat goes tight.

“Elm?!” Clover exclaims, going into the alleyway, ignores the aches and pains from the battle to rush up to her, “Elm, what’s wrong? Are you hurt, why are you on the-“

Clover abruptly stops because he’s behind her now, can see what’s she holding in her lap and _oh god_. It’s a body, mangled beyond recognition, dripping blood and visceral all over the place, barely holding together at the seams and the worst part is that it’s _tiny_. So small cradled in Elm’s massive arms, a minuscule lump of flesh laying on her knees and it’s horribly and unequivocally a _child_ , a fucking _child_.

Clover clenches his eyes shut at the sudden wave of nausea that hits him.

“Elm,” Clover whispers, tries to keep his voice steady, “Elm, let’s go.”

She doesn’t respond to him, eyes wide and unblinking as she stares down at the body. He doesn’t think she’s even breathing.

“ _Elm_ ,” he tries again, throat so tight he can barely speak, “You have to get up. _Please_.”

He lays a hand on her shoulder and she turns that thousand-yard stare on him now, looking but not seeing him. She’s beginning to tremble.

“Let go of the body, Elm,” Clover whispers, reaching down to gently uncurl her stiff fingers, “You have to let go.”

And, she does, painfully slow and quivering, softly laying it on the floor beside her. Clover helps her get up on shaky legs. In her hand she’s holding a tattered ribbon, either red or either purple, Clover can’t tell. It’s too covered in blood to know the color.

“Elm?” Clover questions, watching as she lifts the ribbon to her eye-level, “What is tha-“

“She was wearing this,” Elm whispers, throat raw like she had been screaming, “A pretty blue ribbon shaped in a bow, wrapped around her head.”

And, that’s the last thing she says to him for the rest of the day.

It hits the rest of the team hard, when the news breaks out about it. Vine retreats within himself, only showing his face when he has to. Marrow looks as if he’s ready to burst into tears at any moment, tail curled between his legs. Harriet tears up punching bag after punching bag, until her knuckles are bloody and she can’t feel her hands anymore. Clover can’t sleep, sees images of flesh and bones and shaking fingers, silky blue ribbons spilling from his mouth like vomit.

But the most shocking behavior is from Elm herself, who’s back to her usual exuberance after only a few days. She loud and brash again, laughing as she plants her hands on her hips. Her smile is big.

It’s.... unnerving to say the least. It’s too soon. Clover tries not to judge her too hard, knows that everybody has different coping mechanisms, shows their demons in different ways. But, it’s hard sometimes, when he sees her grin nice and wide and all he can think about is strong arms and a too-small body within them.

It reaches its breaking point when Elm is offering coffee to Harriet, waving the cup wildly as she talks to her. Elm’s voice is too loud and her smile is too bright and Harriet is hunching further and further within herself. Clover doesn’t know if he should intervene.

“You need energy!” Elm says, shaking the cup in Harriet’s face, “Can’t have our speedster slow on the uptake! Here, just dri-“

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harriet interrupts and her voice may be low but it cuts across the room like a knife, fierce and all-encompassing rage bubbling beneath the surface and coating her tongue.

Elm falters at that and her expression drops for a moment before she’s grinning again, cheeks tight.

“Haha that’s no way to talk to your teammate!” Elm says, lays a hand on Harriet’s shoulder and Clover knows that’s the wrong move, “I’m only-“

“Don’t touch me!” Harriet snaps, abruptly standing up and smacking Elm’s hand away, knocking the cup of coffee to the floor in the process. Clover stands up as well, watching them with his heart in his ears.

“A _kid_ ,” Harriet says brokenly, shoulders near her ears and hands clasping at her elbows, looking angry and sad and tired, so _so tired_ , “A fucking _kid_ is- and you just stand there- Like-like you don’t _care_ -“

“ _Harriet_ ,” Clover interrupts because she wasn’t _there_ when he first saw Elm, broken and pale and tenderly holding the body like it was the only thing that mattered-

“It’s okay, Clover,” Elm whispers and she’s still smiling, even though it’s small and her lips are trembling, “ _It’s okay_.”

She turns and leaves the room, her gait shaky. Harriet scoffs at her retreating form.

“I’m going to the fucking gym,” Harriet mumbles before she leaves the room as well.

Clover wipes a hand down his face, feeling exhausted. He goes to the direction that Elm had run off to.

He finds her in the common room, sitting on the couch hunched over. She’s quaking. When she sees him walk up to her, she tries for a smile but it ends up crumbling before she even starts.

“I do care,” Elm says quietly, curls her hands on top of her thighs into fists, “I _do_. You know that, don’t you Clover?”

Clover sits down next to her, eyebrows pinched.

“I _do_ , Elm,” Clover responds, lays a hand on top of hers but he’s confused, frustrated, “ _I do_ , but why are you- What’s going on-“

“I was there y’know,” Elm says, letting out a laugh but it’s a harsh sound, acidic as it is bitter, “I could’ve saved her but I didn’t. _I didn’t_ , the Grimm slipped past me and she was _hiding_ there, I didn’t see her, I didn’t know she was _there_. But the Grimm _did_ , it knew, that _thing knew_ and it went straight for her and I couldn’t-“

Elm is panting now, eyes so wet they shine in the light but the tears don’t fall, she doesn’t let them fall. Clover feels like he can’t breathe.

“ _I couldn’t save her_ ,” Elm finishes, closing her eyes, wet lashes sticking together in clumps, “I wasn’t strong enough.”

She looks up at him and Clover sharply inhales because it’s like they’re back in that alleyway again, where nothing existed but the three of them.

“Don’t you understand, Clover?” Elm whispers, desperate, clutching at his upper arm, “I _have_ to be strong. I can’t- I’m _scared_. Scared that I could fail anybody at any moment, that there’ll be more bodies because of _me_. I can’t let this affect me, let this _control_ me.”

And Clover makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat, grips the side of her neck to pull her in until their foreheads are touching.

“You _are_ strong, Elm,” Clovers says fiercely, doesn’t let her shake her head in protest, “The strongest women I’ve ever met. But you need to understand that being strong is not about having no fear, not about being emotionless.”

He firmly presses his fingers into the back of her neck, to anchor her in the moment, to show that he’s here and she lets out a shaky exhale.

“Being strong is to work through that fear. To put yourself out there even though you might fail,” he continues, “It’s to allow yourself to feel helpless because you don’t want anyone else to feel that way too.”

There’s a pause where they just breathe before Elm’s clasping the side of his neck too and she begins to cry. The tears fall from her eyes endlessly and her sobs are loud and broken. She can’t stop trembling and Clover just holds her through it, lets her have her fill.

Later, when Elm’s eyes are almost swollen shut and she feels lighter than she has been all week, she sees Harriet near the fridge. They stare at each other for a moment, Elm’s shoulders drooped and Harriet’s mouth curved in a sneer.

“I’m sorry,” Elm finally whispers, voice almost lost from her crying and Harriet’s expression softens, looking Elm over like she just noticed her appearance.

“You look like shit, Elm,” Harriet says, but her tone is soft as she turns to open the freezer, grabbing a tub of vanilla, “But you also look like you need a big bowl of ice-cream right about now.”

She sets the tub on the counter and grabs two spoons. She holds one out to Elm, a peace offering.

“Forgive me?” Harriet questions, sheepish as Elm grabs the spoon handle.

And, Elm softly laughs at that, wraps her arm around Harriet’s shoulders to bring her in close. She clinks their spoons together and that answers that.

Clover slips from his hiding place by the doorway with a smile on his face.

** Marrow **

If Elm hides with smiles and laughter, Marrow does it with snark and bravado.

Marrow is always trying to prove himself, Clover knows. He’s the rookie, the young one, the one with the tail that literally shows what he’s feeling at any given moment. The epitome of high risk, high reward.

And, it’s that tail that gives him away when Clover finds him after the election incident at Mantle, tail curled between his legs as he walks down the hallway, clothes dirty from battle. He has an arm holding his side.

“Marrow?” Clover says, causing Marrow to stop, his tail raising in a tentative stance before dropping once again, “Are you alright?”

Marrow turns around on his heel to face him, smile sharp as he rests his arms at his sides. Clover doesn’t miss the wince on his face when he moves.

“I’m fine,” Marrow says, and he has a bite to his tone, slightly puffing out his chest, “Everything’s _a-ok_ , Clover. Just dandy really.”

Clover just sends him a flat look, showing how much he doesn’t believe that. Marrow shrinks a little under Clover’s gaze, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he breaks eye contact.

“Okay, maybe everything’s not fine,” Marrow relents but he juts out his chin, keeps his head high, “But, _I’m_ okay, really. You have nothing to worry about.” 

Marrow raises a hand to rub the back of his head and his expression goes a little tight at the motion, his tail quivering as it tries to curl even further inwards. Clover takes a step forward, concerned.

“You’re hurt,” Clover says, more of a statement then a question, peering at Marrow’s body like he can find the source, “We have to patch you up.”

Marrow just laughs weakly at that and waves his hand in a careless motion, tail slowly wagging now in nervousness.

“I told you, I’m fi-“ Marrow starts.

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” Clover finishes, tone unyielding.

Marrow’s shoulders drop in defeat and his tail curves between his legs again. Clover’s expression softens at that, stepping closer to him.

“ _Marrow_ ,” Clover says, voice gentle but still firm, resting a hand on Marrow’s arm, “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

And, Marrow lets out a shaky breath, stares up at Clover with big eyes, looking lost.

“Okay,” Marrow whispers, lets Clover lead him down the hallway, “ _Okay_.” 

Clover takes him to a medical room, makes him sit on the bed there. Clover begins to look for a first aid kit.

“Where are you hurt?” He asks, turning to face Marrow when he finally finds the supplies, container in hand.

Marrow’s tail is back to slowly wagging, anxiously thumping against the mattress.

“....My side,” he finally says, jaw clenched and eyebrows drawn low as he ghosts a hand over the area, “Near the ribs. Got hit pretty hard there.”

Clover nods, stepping up to sit next to him on the bed.

“I’m going to need you to take off your shirt,” Clovers says, opening the first-aid kit at his side and Marrow’s tail moves a little faster, clearly nervous.

“Usually you have to buy me dinner before that happens,” Marrow says, trying to joke but missing it by a mile.

“ _Marrow_ ,” Clover says and his tone leaves no room for argument.

Marrow reluctantly grips the bottom of his shirt, slowly starts peeling it off. Clover sharply inhales when the piece of cloth is finally off, carelessly thrown to the floor. He can finally see Marrow’s skin, the extent of the damage.

And it’s _bad_.

Marrow’s whole right side is an angry red splotch, blue and purpling in some areas. Clover’s hand hovers over the tender skin, hesitant to touch.

“This type of bruising....” Clover says in awe, “To cause this much damage your-“

Clover stops, eyebrow drawn low as he looks into Marrow’s eyes. Marrow gives a sheepish half-smile back.

“Your _aura_ ,” Clover says and the realization sits in the back of his tongue like acid, burning his throat, “Your aura was depleted.”

Clover has to close his eyes against the sudden anger that flows under his skin, the dread that cools his very blood. He clenches and unclenches his fingers.

“We were out there for _hours_ , Marrow,” Clover says, feeling off-balance, “Evacuating the area, cleaning up the Grimm. Just how _long_ were you- Why didn’t you _tell_ us anything? We’re your teammates, you’re supposed to tell us when something like that happe-“

“So _what_? So you can babysit me?” Marrow cuts in, surprisingly harsh and Clover looks at him with wide eyes, “Push me off to the side ‘cause you think I can’t handle it?”

Marrow’s tail is up in agitation and he holds an arm in front of his chest, like that can somehow hide his bruising.

“Marrow,” Clover says sincerely, eyebrows twisted as he looks into his eyes, “You can’t think that we-“

“I _know_ I’m a rookie,” Marrow says quietly, shoulders and tail drooping, suddenly looking fatigued, “I know you guys have more experience than me but I’m _trying_. I’m trying so fucking hard to be better. To be a teammate someone would be proud to have. I can’t let something little like this slow me down.”

Clover places his hands on Marrow’s shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. Marrow can’t help but to lean into it, eyes closing.

“I _am_ proud of you,” Clover says fiercely, voice sure and full of fire, “And I’m proud to have you on my team. But _this_. This isn’t something that should be ignored.”

Marrow sharply exhales and he slowly opens his eyes, big and wet and full of emotion. Clover’s throat goes tight.

“I saw him,” Marrow whispers, reaching up to lay his hand atop the one on his shoulder, “At the election party. My eyes aren’t as good as Blake’s and it was just an outline, but I still _saw_ him. I should’ve _done_ something but there was so many screams and he was too fast and it was too dark and my nose is so _sensitive_ , all I could smell was all that _blood_. There was so much of it that I couldn’t-“

A single tear runs down Marrow’s cheek and he swipes at it like it’s offensive, steeling his face and squaring his jaw. Clover watches with his heart racing in his chest.

“I _have_ to better, Clover,” Marrow says and even though his eyes glisten and his lips tremble, his voice rings steady and true, “I can’t let something like that happen again. And if it means dealing with a couple of bruises, I’ll gladly pay that small price to keep people safe.”

Marrow smiles but it’s all wrong, too small and wobbly at the edges and Clover’s nostrils flare, he deliberately exhales. Clover slides his hand up the cup the side of Marrow’s neck, thumb near his ear and the rest of his fingers curled on the back of the column, pressing firm and sure. 

“I _know_ you will keep the people here safe, Marrow, I have never doubted that,” Clover says carefully, keeping steady eye contact, “But, you can’t do this to yourself. Can’t torture yourself with what-ifs.”

Marrow opens his mouth like he was going to say something but Clover shakes his head, stopping him.

“Let me finish. You go down that road and you start questioning everything that you have done, everything that you _could_ have done and it’s a vicious cycle,” Clover says, briefly squeezing Marrow’s shoulder, “It never ends. You only have one body and you shouldn’t neglect it. How will you take care of the people in this kingdom when you can’t even take care of yourself?”

And as Marrow looks up at him with wonder in his eyes, hands over both of Clover’s as his tail wags a steady rhythm, he’s reminded of how _young_ Marrow really is. He stares at Clover like he holds all the answers and he can’t help the swell of protectiveness that blooms beneath his chest for Marrow, spreading warmth throughout his body.

“Now,” Clover continues, reluctantly slips his hands away to grab the first-aid kit, “Let's take care of that bruising, yeah?”

And Marrow nods, looking a bit embarrassed as his wagging kicks up a notch. Clover just shakes his head and laughs, ruffling Marrow’s hair.

** Harriet **

Harriet is energy itself.

It’s in the sharp curve of her smile, the teasing arch of her eyebrows. In the way her semblance sparks across her like lightning, her legs a blur as she speeds across the room. It’s why Clover trusts her the most when a situation is tight, to be as sharp and as quick-witted as the sly remarks she likes to give out.

Just like in this moment, with the team currently fighting a rigorous battle in the tundra.

Marrow is busy holding off most of the Grimm with his semblance, and Harriet is making swift use of the advantage by killing the frozen creatures. Clover, Elm, and Vine are fighting the ones that can still move, quickly covering ground with measured attacks.

All is going well when suddenly, one of the Grimm runs full speed into a boulder, blowing it apart with a roar. Jagged pieces of rock fly high in the air before they begin to hurtle towards the ground, threatening to fall upon them. It’s only natural when Clover calls out Harriet’s name, knowing she’s the only one fast enough to get them out of the way.

And Harriet does it in the way she does everything else, with quick and precise movements. She hops from rock to rock, smashing them apart into harmless pieces with Fast Knuckles. She’s about to break the last piece, arm reared back and smirk on her face when a stray Grimm lunges at her, grabbing her out of the sky. The rock continues its journey downward.

“Harriet?!” Marrow exclaims, lips curled back from his teeth and eyes wide in panic because that last piece is headed towards _him_.

He’s a sitting duck with that semblance of his and Clover curses, flinging Kingfisher’s hook. He wraps it around the Grimm’s neck and yanks it off of Harriet, who looks battered but not broken.

“Go!” Clover shouts, fighting the Grimm now and Harriet does, scrambling to get up. 

She runs, legs burning and heart pounding in her ears, semblance zapping so intense that she’s lit up from head to toe but it’s not enough. 

It’s one of the rare times she’s too late.

And even though Marrow sustains only minor injuries in the end, Clover notices that Harriet begins to withdraw within herself, days after the incident. 

She starts taking on more and more missions, starts going to the training room nearly every day. Her quips gain more bite to them and she snaps at people more often. She flits around with a sort of anxious energy, never resting, never taking breaks. Clover worries that she’s going to run herself into the ground.

So, when the team are discussing missions and Harriet picks the most physically strenuous of the ones, he stops her.

“I’m sorry,” Harriet says and her tone is enough to stop everything in the room, a tight smile on her face, “But _why_ don’t you want me taking this mission again?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve completed a large number of missions this week. And with no rest periods in between, might I add,” Clover continues undeterred, keeping his voice light and amicable, “I think you earned yourself a break.”

Harriet barks out a laugh, eyebrow arched as she gestures with her hand.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Cap’n,” she says, crossing her legs at the ankle as she leans forward, “I can handle it just fine.”

But Clover doesn’t smile with her. He crosses his arms.

“Normally I’d agree with you,” Clover stays, shaking his head, “But you’re pushing yourself too much, too hard. You have to _stop_. Rest your body.”

And while Marrow might be cowed with a well-placed look or a stern sounding voice, Harriet is _stubborn_. He can see the anger building within her, in the way she slowly starts tensing up, at how her jaw flexes as she clenches her teeth. The smirk on her face is _nasty_.

“I _told_ you-“ she starts but Clover holds up a hand, stopping her.

“And _I_ told _you_ , that I want you to take a break,” he says, straightening his spine and putting his hands behind his back, pulling rank, “And that _isn’t_ a suggestion, Harriet.”

There’s a pause before she is storming out of the room, nearly tipping her chair in the process. Clover sighs, deflating.

“Guys-“ Clover starts but Elm is already shaking her head, Vine nodding in agreement.

“It’s okay, Clover,” Elm says, softly smiling at him, “Go. We’ll be fine.”

Clover smiles gratefully, saluting with two fingers as he jogs off.

He finds Harriet in the rec room, pacing back and forth with her hands curled into fists. When she sees him, she scoffs.

“What do you want now, Clover?” she says, “Came to see if I was following your orders?”

“I _came_ to see if you were alright, Harriet,” Clover says quietly, stepping up to her and her expression shifts, like she doesn’t know how to react to that, “I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

Harriet sighs, wiping down her face in agitation.

“I’d be better if you’d just let me go on the mission,” she mumbles, mouth twisted in a scowl, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but I’m _fine_.”

Clover rolls his jaw at that, starts weighing his words in his head. Harriet stares him down all the while.

“....Is this because of Marrow?” Clover tries and judging by how Harriet flinches, looking away, he hit the nail on the head, “That wasn’t your fault, not by a long shot. You gave it your all, Harriet-“

“But he still got _hurt_ ,” she spits, starting to pace again, features twisted, “It was my job to protect him and he _still_ got fucking hurt.”

“Harriet, you can’t beat yourself up about this,” Clover says, eyebrows knitted as he watches her, “Battling the Grimm, it’s unpredictable. Things like that-“

“Then what the hell am I here for?” she says, her tone low and squeezed as she suddenly stops to look at him, “The team counts on me to be there when they call, to have their back. It’s my _job_.”

She’s clutching at both of her elbows now, shoulders hunched. Her eyes are bright and her face is hard and Clover’s heart twists in his chest at how her fingers tremble.

“The Ace-Ops are supposed to be of the elite, the best of the best. And if I can’t do my job right, then what is my purpose on the team?” she continues, clenching her eyes shut like she can’t look at him, can’t face her reality, “Marrow could have gotten seriously hurt because of _me_. Because I fucked up.”

Clover steps up to her, lays his hands on both of her upper arms. His grip is gentle but sure and Harriet opens her eyes to look at him, fatigue written in the planes of her face.

“You _do_ belong here with us, Harriet, with the team. You’re not perfect but you don’t _need_ to be,” Clover says, tone firm and she sharply inhales, “You’re only human, but so are we. We all have our flaws, our mistakes.”

He slides his hand up to rest it against the side of her neck, thumb pressing softly into the bottom of her jaw as he smiles down at her.

“We all have our roles to play,” Clover continues, “Each just important as the rest. We trust you to watch our backs, make up for our liabilities. But you can’t forget that you’re not alone in that responsibility, because we all do the same as well. Including for you.”

Harriet gently lays a hand on his forearm in response to that, finally smiles. It’s a small and fragile thing but it’s _there_. 

They stay like that for a moment before her expression shifts, turns a little mischievous. Clover raises an eyebrow in question.

“I guess I finally got to receive the patented Clover speech and neck-clasp,” Harriet says, and her chuckle is a bit wet but her eyes are sparkling, smirk sharp as she tilts her head.

Clover chuckles as well, letting her go as he steps back.

“I have a patent now?” he says, putting his hands on his hips.

“Word gets around, Cap’n,” she retorts, “If being an Ace-Ops member doesn’t work out for you, maybe you can get a job as a motivational speaker.”

Clover full-on laughs at that, throwing his head back and Harriet grins at him, eyebrows raised.

He wouldn’t have her any other way.

** Clover **

When General Ironwood first breaks the news to him, Clover’s gut reaction is to laugh.

It’s only his years of military training that prevent him from doing that. Because magic, relics, a lady that’s apparently the queen of the Grimm? It all sounds ridiculous, downright outlandish.

But, Ironwood’s face is stony as he tells his tale, tone grave as he talks about the future of Remnant. A sort of cold dread slowly spreads through his body as Clover listens, the world narrowing to a point until all he knows is the room he’s standing in. Ironwood’s voice is muffled compared to the ringing in his ears. He tasks Clover to tell the team.

When the meeting is over, Clover drifts throughout the rest of his day. He goes through the motions, has trouble thinking straight. He sees shadows in every corner, ready to drag him down and drown him.

It’s why he finds himself out in the courtyard, trying to collect his thoughts as he sits on a bench. He stares up at the stars, lips pressed in a thin line.

(He wonders if Salem is doing the same, plotting her next move. Smirking as she watches humanity, strikes the match to set the world aflame.)

“Clover?” he hears and he turns his head to the sound.

His eyebrows jump up to his hairline, eyes widening when he sees the team standing there. He gets up, perplexed.

“Guys, what are you....” Clover trails off and Harriet scoffs, crossing her arms.

“What? You think we’d let you brood here all alone?” she says, eyebrow cocked like it was obvious, “You’ve been off all day, Cap’n.”

“It was like you were physically here, but not fully up here,” Marrow continues, tapping his head to demonstrate, a sheepish look on his face. 

Clover just looks at them, feeling a little overwhelmed. Elm slowly steps up to him.

“You can tell us, Clover,” she says gently, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder and Vine nods, “Whatever it is. What’s on your mind.”

And Clover licks his lips, rolls his jaw. His throat goes tight as he looks at all their faces, patient as they wait for him.

“....What if I had to tell you something, something that would change how you view the world,” he says quietly, and the weight of the truth is heavy against his chest, sits bitter on his tongue like ash, “That we were tasked to fight something bigger than we ever thought was possible.”

The words float in the air around them, hefty with intention and Elm slowly slips her hand off his shoulder with a concerned frown on her face. Marrow’s tail gradually wags in anxiety and Harriet has dropped her arms, letting them hang loose at her sides. All is still until Vine walks up to Clover, his fingers softly intertwined. His stare is unflinching as always.

“Then I believe we shall do what we have always done,” Vine says, tone even and sure, looking into Clover’s eyes, “And that is to trust in your leadership and in your guidance. We shall support you, just as you have done to us.”

And Vine smiles, a barely-there thing but it holds so much meaning, so much emotion. Clover lets out a shaky sigh.

“You say that now,” Clover starts, wiping down his face with his hand, “But you haven’t even heard-“

“ _But_ , we’ll be in this together,” Elm interrupts, placing her hand back on his arm and Clover leans into the warmth it gives, “You don’t have to be strong all by yourself, not with us around.”

Marrow nods, head bobbing up and down energetically. He places a fist on his chest, puffing it out.

“When you got people like us on your side, you got nothin’ to worry about,” he says, smirking as his tail swings a content rhythm, “You have the best of the best to have your back.”

Marrow winks and Harriet rolls her eyes a little, elbowing him to get closer to Clover. Marrow yelps and Clover can’t help the way his lips twitch into a smile.

“C’mon, you’re always reassuring us, so it's about damn time you’ve had your turn,” she says, tone low and earnest, a lopsided grin on her face, “You’ve had it coming, Clover.”

The chuckle Clover gives at that is choked-sounding but no less vibrant. He straightens his back.

“It’s just my luck,” he says, eyes glistening but crinkled at the corners, turning his head to look at all of them, “That I was given such wonderful teammates.”

Harriet groans at that, putting up a front, but she can’t hide the way her smile pulls at her cheeks. Marrow rubs a hand on the back of his head as his tail goes crazy, Elm laughing as she pulls Clover into her side with an arm around his shoulders. Vine watches on with a fond yet exasperated look on his face, hands behind his back. 

The future doesn’t look so bleak, Clover thinks, with them by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this fic was a fucking trip let me tell you. It’s the longest thing I ever managed to complete and I tried to keep everyone in character as much as possible. Harriet’s And Clovers part for me was the hardest, but I got through it.
> 
> So, does everyone remember that thing that Thor(from the MCU) does all the time, the neck-clasp thing he does to Loki? Yeah it’s my headcanon that Clover does that all the time. And that he’s always giving motivational speeches and complimenting everyone.
> 
> Also, I know they said they weren’t friends but goddammit a girl can wish. They’re personalities are too cool not to see how a family team dynamic would work between them.


End file.
